Dude (Looks like a Lady?)
by multiplyfandomized
Summary: Sam and Dean are on a witch hunt, and when things turn south, Dean finds himself suddenly... not himself. Genderbent!Dean, Genderbend AU, NO WINCEST, Dean W., Sam W., Gabriel, Castiel, Charlie, Bobby...
1. Chapter 1: Smells a Little Witchy

**A/N:**

Hey guys! this is my first fic, so please go easy on me!

**Chapter 1: Smells a little Witchy...**

"DUH-NUH, CHHH, DUH-NUH, DUUUUUDE LOOKS LIKE A LADYYY," Dean sang, obnoxiously, as the Impala cruised down the nearly abandoned highway.

"Dean." Sam said, not moving from his place in the passenger seat, with his head leaned up against the window, eyes closed.

"SHE'S A blughbeorjglfgFKGJOER AT FIRST BITE, BABY YOU'RE WRONG BUT YOU KNOW IT'S ALL RIIIIIIIIGHT"

"Dean. You don't even know the words." Sam grumbled.

"Shut up, Sammy, you know I sound just as awesome as Steven Tyler." Dean retorted, but turned the radio down to a more reasonable volume. "You needed to wake up anyway, any more beauty rest and dude, you really would look like a lady."

"Whatever, Dean." Sam's face made that expression that reminded Dean of this girl he once dated, who never seemed pleased by anything. Man, she was kind of a bitch.

"What did you do with the file Bobby gave us? I want to look over the facts again before we hit town." Sam said, turing around in his seat to lean over the back. Dean had half a mind to slam on the breaks and send Sammy's ass into Baby's floorboards, but he thought better of it. Prank wars, once initiated, could escalate from "funny" to "so nOT FUNNY" pretty quickly.

After a good bit of rummaging through the junk in the back seat, Sam stuck his head up, the missing file clenched between his teeth.

"Agh 'round itph!"

"Rut ras rat, Raggy?" Dean said with a smirk.

"I said, 'I found it', jackass" Sam retorted, turning around to face the front of the car again.

"Took you long enough. Give me the Sparknotes version, we're about ten miles out from town" Dean said, squinting at the road sign for Dardanelle, Arkansas as the Impala whipped past.

"Okay, so get this," Sam starts, "Bobby's noticed a few fishy deaths around the high school here, and all of them seem to be centered around…. the girl's Guidance Counselor? You know, the girls go and rant about whoever's bothering them, parents, or bullies, or boys…. and then they end up dead. The last vic was Eric Ashmore, 16, and apparently his girlfriend Amber had just told said Guidance Counselor about how Eric got wasted and beat her up a couple of weeks ago, but she was too scared to press charges."

"So the counselor ices him?" Dean asks. "How do you think she's doing it? It seems more psychopath-y than anything freaky."

"That's the thing, though, all the vics just drop dead. No signs of poison, no signs of violence, no nothing, according to the pathologist" Sam explains.

"Smells a little witchy to me," Dean says.

"Yeah, me too. A curse or a hex bag could do something like that, couldn't it?" Sam asks.

"I think so, but we'll have to give the Creepy Counselor's place a good shake-down before we know for sure."

Sam and Dean cruise the Impala down the main street of the town, then have to make a U-turn and go back because "town" was actually about two square blocks of antiquated storefronts. After turning down a side street, they found a little Mom and Pop diner that looked promising, and decided to get some grub.

The bell on the door chimed as they entered, and a stereotypically portly and aging hostess came shuffling over to greet them.

"Just the two'a ya'll today, honey?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am." Sam replied with a smile, the quintessential picture of southern charm.

"Take your pick, boys, an' I'll be over inna minute to getcha orders."

After they picked a booth and ordered lunch, Sam and Dean turned back to the job at hand.

"Do you think we should go up to the school and counsel ourselves with a little guidance?" Dean asked, trying too hard to make a pun.

"Nah," Sam said, smirking anyway. "I think we should dig around her house first, then pay her a visit a little later."

Sam and Dean both inhaled their lunches, Dean with his usual gusto and Sam just because he was starving. They paid for their meal, and headed over to the only motel in town so Sammy could do some nerd-searching on his laptop and dig up the lady's address.

A little later, they pulled the Impala across the street from a small, well-kept farmhouse about fifteen minutes away from the high school. Looking around, Sam and Dean walk up to the front door, and Dean kneels to pick the lock.

"Doesn't look very intimidating…." Sam says.

"Yeah, well, don't judge a spellbook by it's cover." Dean snaps back.

The door creaks open, and the brothers are quick to enter the house and out of sight of any prying eyes.

"You take the front rooms, and I'll do the back" Dean orders, moving off down the hallway.

Sam discovers a bedroom in the first door he tries, and nimbly fishes through the dresser drawers for any hex-bag trappings. Not finding anything, he moves into the next doorway, a kitchen. He first checks the spice cabinet for anything out of the ordinary, like "Scale of a Dragon" or "Testicle of a Newt" or something else equally disturbing. He's just putting back a harmless jar of Tumeric when he hears something.

"….Sammy!…."

Sam immediately takes off for the back of the house, and spots an open door to a basement. Taking the steps two at a time in his rush to get to his brother, he nearly knocks himself out on the low ceiling. When he finally enters the room, he sees no sign of Dean. Instead, he sees a angry-faced thirty-something brunette dressed like a librarian with her arms outstretched, pointing towards an unconscious form slumped in the corner.

Sam charges the woman, pulling Ruby's demon-killing knife out of his waistband as he barrels towards her.

The woman takes one good look at Sam, and then, laughing, claps her hands and disappears in a cloud of smoke.

_No, _Sam thinks, _not smoke….Glitter?_

A little confused, Sam turns to the still-limp person in the corner….

and immediately comes staggering to a halt, because, _where tHE HELL IS DEAN?_


	2. Chapter 2: BOOBS, SAMMY

**A/N:** Since I got pretty good feedback on the first chapter, I decided to give you guys a little treat and put up chapter two! Yayy! Sadly, I can't just sit around all day and write fanfic, so the next chapter will not get put up as quickly. :( But thank you guys a million for reading, and I hope you like it!

**Chapter 2: BOOBS, SAMMY**

Dean sat up, arching his back and tilting his neck, sore from where that bitch catapulted him into the corner with her black magic mojo. Squinting at his surroundings, Dean spotted Sam standing in the center of the room, with a hilariously dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Hey, man," Dean said, "Where'd our little friend go? She was just here a minute ago, kicking my ass. Please tell me you ganked her."

"…."

"Sam? Seriously, where did she go? And why the hell are you looking at me like that?"

"…DEAN?"

"Yeah, genius, who did you think it was?" Dean said, standing up with the help of the wall behind him.

_Jesus, when did Sam get this tall? He's always been fucking giant, but I swear I used to at least come up to his shoulder….. _Dean thought.

"But you're…. you're a…. he.. she…." Sam stuttered, a look of utter disbelief on his face.

"Go on, Waterboy, spit it out." Dean said brusquely. He was getting tired of that look on Sam's face real fast.

_What's with my voice? _Dean thought._ Does it always sound this… shrill? _He cleared his throat, surprised at the lack of resonance it made.

"Dean, you'RE A GIRL."

"Oh, yeah, sure Sam, that's real mature, resort to name-calling while we're in the middle of a hun-

"NO DEAN, LIKE YOU ARE ACTUALLY A GIRL."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Dean, please, just look down."

Dean, rolling his eyes at his (suddenly much taller) little brother, takes a cursory glance down. The first thing he notices is, oddly enough, his feet.

_Damn, bitch hit me so hard one of my shoes flew off….. wait_…..

"Sam, why is my foot so tiny? Does it look tiny to you?" Dean asks, sticking his shoeless foot up for his brother to examine, toes wriggling.

"Dean, I'm not really worried about your foot." Sam says, still with that moose-in-headlights expression.

As Dean lowers his leg, he feels a twinge in his hip from his fall, and moves to place a hand on the aching muscle. Only, his hips are not… where they used to be… and they're a lot more… hippy?… and his jeans are way too big, his shirts too for that matter…. but he can still glimpse the faint curvature of his chest under the smooth fabr-

"BOOBS." Dean yells, looking up at his brother and grabbing his chest frantically at the same time. "BOOBS, SAMMY. WHY DO I HAVE THEM." With a look of sudden realization closely followed by sheer terror, Dean patted his hand down between his legs where he discovered the glaring absence of something very dear to him. "OHHHH MYY GOOOOD, SAMMY, I THINK I'M A GIRL!"

"No fucking shit, Dean," Sam says, recovering slightly. "That witch must've whammy'd you with a curse or something."

His brothers words interrupted Dean's panicked examination of his "new" body. "Sonofabitch….." Dean whispered. "SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!"

Sam had to admit, he almost cracked a smile at hearing such language coming out of the mouth of the attractive (_is that weird?_) young blonde now inhabiting his brother's clothes. He managed to squash the grin it just in time, before Dean could flip his shit any harder.

Sam needn't have worried, though, after the initial violent outburst his brother (_or is it siSTER?) _just stood there, drowning in his clothes, and staring at his petite hands like a junkie on a bad trip.

After what felt like an eternity, Dean finally turned his head to face his brother.

Sam felt a shudder pass through him at the sight of the pretty young face, expression wide and eyes…. unnervingly _Dean. "_Come on, Dean. Why don't we head back to the motel, we can give Bobby a ring and plan our next move. That witch probably won't be coming back to this house, anyway, now that she knows we're on to her."

"Yeah…." Dean says, hesitantly. "That's probably a… uh… good idea. Bobby'll know what to do."

Dean hobbled over to where his other boot was lying on the ground, and stuck his foot inside. Then, stomping around like a toddler in his dad's work boots, proceeded up the stairs and back to the Impala.


	3. Chapter 3: Dean's Feminine Side

**A/N: **

Hey guys! I just wanted to say thanks to everybody who's reading! I'm so glad ya'll like it! Here's a super long chapter for you guys, complete with more Brochester bickering and cranky Dean. Enjoy, and please review! ;)

**Chapter 3: Dean's Feminine Side**

Dean's mood grew steadily worse as the day wore on. Everything was so awkwardly _female _about his body, from the way his hips moved as he walked, causing his now baggy jeans to slip way too far down, to the way he was now too short to sit comfortably back in the front seat of the Impala to reach the gas pedal. He could tell that Sam was starting to get over the shock-and-awe factor of Dean's curse, and was beginning to snicker every time Dean got frustrated. Which was about every forty-five seconds.

"Sam, I swear to god, if you give me that little smug face of yours oNE MORE TIME I'M G-"

"Chill, _Sis_," Sam said, the little fucker. "Bobby said he's on his way to give us a hand, and all we have to do is sit tight for a day or two while he finishes up a haunting."

"Yeah, sure, that's easy for you to say, 'cause you didn't just get TURNED INTO A CHICK!"

"At least that witch made you a cute chick," Sammy retorted, suppressing a grin behind the screen of his laptop.

"Dude, that is so fucking sick, I feel like I'm going to barf…." Dean said, giving his brother a evil look, rendered nearly comical by his softened features.

"Okay, okay, I know it sucks. But there's really nothing else to do. I need to figure out where else our little Sabrina the Teenage Bitch could be hiding, so when Bobby gets here we'll be ready. "

"Uggghhhhhhhhhhhh…" Dean groaned, flopping back on his bed, wincing as he landed. "Are boobs supposed to hurt?" he asked, with a contemplative expression on his delicate face.

"How the hell should I know, Dean?" Sam snapped, clearly tired of dealing with all of Dean's melodrama.

"Oh, I dunno, Samantha," Dean muttered under his breath, reaching a hand up to experimentally caress the offending tissue, "maybe because you have google installed in your cranium…"

"I heard that." Sam said, shooting Dean a glare.

Dean rolled his eyes, and wondered how much worse it would have been if _Sam_ had been the one the witch put her girly curse on. The very thought caused him to shudder. As he rolled over on the bed, he noticed just how baggy his clothes actually were on this new, rather slender frame.

"I think I'm going to go make a supply run, and maybe hit up that thrift store here in town for some new duds, since I seem to have _magically_ lost fifty pounds. Along with my manhood." Dean said, grabbing Baby's keys out of his coat pocket.

"Good, 'cause you kinda look like a hobo." Sam said, not taking his eyes off the screen. "But a vewwy pwetty hobo."

Dean narrowed his eyes and attempted to punch the shit out of Sam's arm as he stormed out, but it ended up making all his knuckles crack painfully while Sam just laughed, Dean muttering curses under his breath.

* * *

Driving around town in the Impala, Dean started to feel a little bit more like himself. Well, emotionally, anyway. He still looked like a fucking Miss America contestant. Pulling in the parking lot outside the small secondhand store, Dean flipped Baby's sun visor down and opened the little flap that concealed the mirror.

_Jesus H. Christ, _Dean thought, _I don't even look remotely like me anymore… Well, I guess my eyes are kinda the same…. except… bigger… _

Dean sat for a minute in the old car, staring at his reflection and occasionally running his fingers over different parts of his face.

He was paler that he was when he woke up that morning, and his new skin was incredibly soft. He leaned closer to the mirror, and noticed a smattering of freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks.

_Fuck…. Have those always been there? I might as well put my hair up in fucking pigtails and call it a day._

Shaking his head and sitting back from the mirror, Dean roused himself and stepped out of the car, grabbing his pants as he stood up.

_Here goes nothing_, Dean thought, and allowed himself a smirk.

He swung the door open wide and stepped into the store, which was cram-packed with racks upon racks of clothes and shoes. Overwhelmed by the sheer volume of merchandise shoved into the small store, Dean stopped in his tracks and gaped.

"Uh… Can I help you?" a voice said to his left.

Dean whipped his head around, and managed to hit himself in the eye with a strand of hair. Addressing him was a bespectacled woman of about twenty-five, with a brightly colored Avengers t-shirt on under a red sweater, which only seemed to make her flaming ginger hair stand out that much more.

"Oh, no, I'm fi- well…. Yeah, actually, if you don't mind." Dean said, after rubbing his eye and making a snap decision. He clomped over to the sales counter the girl was sitting behind and rested his palms on the surface.

"Sure. What do you need?" the girl asked, giving Dean a quick once-over then returned her penetrating gaze back to his.

"I… uh.." Dean started, making up the lie nearly as he spoke it. "I had to leave home in a hurry earlier… and somehow I ended up grabbing my… brother's… clothes. And stuff. But I can't go back there, so I need some help finding some that fit."

"Oookay…" the girl said, obviously calling Dean's bluff. "Looks like your 'brother' had some pretty awful taste in clothes anyway. I don't blame you."

"Uh… Thanks. I guess." Dean responded, a little surprised that the girl seemed like she was going to play along with Dean's lie. "Cool shirt, by the way."

"Thanks!" the girl replied, visibly brightening. "I love The Avengers. Joss Whedon is fucking awesome." She came around the counter and grabbed Dean's hand, leading him down into the abyss of racks and clothing items. "Black Widow is my favorite," she continued, "she is so bitchin'! I'm Charlie, by the way."

"Yeah, she is pretty bitchin'" Dean said with a chuckle, allowing himself to be pulled along after the redheaded girl.

"I know right!?" Charlie raved, grabbing some clothes off the racks seemingly at random and shoving them into Dean's arms. "People usually don't get it. Black Widow has the same powers as Batman, after all, except on top of all that, she's a freaking spy, too! Plus, you know, Scarlet Johansson…"

"Yeah, totally!" Dean said, maybe a little too enthusiastically, from underneath the mountain of clothes Charlie had thrown at him, glad that they had finally made it to the back of the store. "Is there a place where I can try these on?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Charlie said. "I think most of those should fit you, 'cause we look about the same size. Just pick out the stuff you like and leave the rest. Do you need anything else? Shoes? Socks? Underwear….?" she questioned, with a cursory glance in the direction of Dean's boobs, hidden under all the garments.

Dean flushed at the last part, and lowered his head. "Uh… yeah.. I guess I shou-"

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'll see what I can scrounge up while you try stuff on." Charlie said, saving Dean the embarrassment of explaining. "Us girls have to stick together, after all," the slender girl said, offering Dean a small smile. "What did you say your name was, again?"

"Oh, it's De…. Anna. Deanna." Dean floundered, mentally chastising himself for not coming up with something better beforehand.

"Well nice to meet you, again, Deanna. Here, let me get the door for you, and I'll just knock when I round up that other stuff."

Dean smiled at Charlie in thanks, and proceeded into the "changing room" which obviously used to be a supply closet, the remnants of shelving still visible on the whitewashed walls. He dumped his pile of clothes on the short bench, and after closing the door, had to take a minute to just breathe.

He must have stood there longer than he thought, because he was startled by a small knock at the door.

"Deanna? I found a pack of underwear leftover from the church clothes drive, never even been opened, and a couple of bras…. we didn't have a lot, so I just brought what I thought would work best. What size shoe do you wear?"

"Uh… This size?" Dean said, slipping one boot off and sticking his foot out underneath the door for Charlie to inspect.

Charlie chuckled, and stuck her own foot next to Dean's for comparison. "You look like maybe a 7 or a 7.5… I'll see what I can do!" And then she was off, diving back into the abyss of the small store.

Dean wondered how on earth anyone ever found anything in this place, it all looked random to him. _Charlie obviously knows her way around… _He thought, and began slipping his old clothes off.

Dean stood there in front of the skinny mirror hanging on the back of the door and proceeded to inspect his new anatomy.

_Hmmm….. _He thought, _not bad… Rack's a bit on the small side, though. Probably cause I'm so fucking skinny. _Dean turned around to inspect his ass. _Now we're talking! Baby got back! _Dean reached around to give himself a little smack, chuckling under his breath. O_kay, let's get this shit over with._

He figured he'd start with the underwear, opening the back and pulling on a simple pair of black boyshorts. Seemingly satisfied, he started flipping through the bras Charlie had brought for him._ No… _he thought, casting aside the offending pink ruffly garment, bright blue polka dots got a _Meh…, _and then finally: _ looks like you're the winner. _The "winner" turned out to be a simple black lace number that didn't look too worn out. After struggling for a few seconds with the clasp, he finally managed to get the damn thing situated. _These are so much easier to take off…_

After giving himself an approving nod in the mirror, he turned to the rest of the stack in front of him, and heaved an exaggerated sigh.

* * *

Sam was just about to pick up his phone and dial Dean's number when the devil himself stepped through the door, armed to the teeth with plastic grocery sacks.

"Jesus, Dean, what the hell did you buy?" Sam said, his relief at seeing his brother immediately pushed out by the annoyance that Dean got to go on a shopping spree while he was stuck in the motel doing actual work.

"Oh shut up, Sammy. You know I needed at least a few day's worth of clothes, and I might have been a little hungry when I finally got to the grocery."

"Is this you getting in touch with your feminine side?" Sam asked, intentionally pushing his brother's buttons.

"You are such a fucking dick, sometimes, you know that?" Dean snapped, his face immediately turning stormy. "You don't even deserve the damn strawberry-walnut salad I found for you. Last one, too. I better just go find fucking Bugs Bunny and give it to him, I'm sure _he'd_ appreciate it…"

"Okay, okay" Sam said, holding his hands up, "I was kidding. Let's just eat before my stomach decided to devour itself from the inside out, okay?"

"Fine." Dean said, slamming the salad container and a beer down in front of his dick of a brother. Dean grabbed a double cheeseburger and a beer for himself, and sat down opposite Sam.

"Nice shirt," Sam offered, trying to break the silence.

"Thanks. A girl at the store helped me find everything, thank god. Which is also probably why I ended up with so much. She was cool, though." Dean said, momentarily forgiving his brother for his perpetual douchey-ness. Plus, Dean really liked the Batman shirt and dark grey zip-up Charlie had found for him.

"Cool." Sam said, glancing at the bags suspiciously. "I think I'm going to give Bobby a call, after dinner."

"That's a good idea, and ask what's taking that old bastard so long." Dean said, around a mouthful of cheeseburger.


	4. Chapter 4: Feathers and Sparks

**A/N: **Hey again, you guys! It's been a little while since I uploaded last, I found it a little difficult to get the ol' writing juices flowing for this chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it, though, and, as always, thanks for reading!

**Chapter 4: Feathers and Sparks**

Sam finished his salad and stepped outside the grungy hotel room to get better reception on his cell phone for his call to Bobby. Dean, not yet finished with his cheeseburger, suspiciously eyed his brother's back as he went. He was a little apprehensive about what was taking Bobby so long to give them a hand, and immediately felt like an ungrateful douche. _Bobby's always been there for us before_, he thought, chewing contemplatively. _This time shouldn't be any different_.

Finished with his dinner, he cleared off the table and then sat on the small loveseat in front of the TV, lacking anything better to do. Grabbing the remote and plopping his (tiny) sneakered feet up on the coffee table, he halfheartedly began flipping channels for something to watch.

_What if I'm stuck like this forever..._ Dean thought, a frown pulling his eyebrows together. _I don't know the first thing about being a chick_.

Dean sat in front of the flickering television, unseeing, as scene after worsening scene flashed in his mind.

"_Deanna" and Sam sitting together in a diner, ordering dinner._

"_Deanna" and Sam doing recon at a bar._

"_Deanna" and Sam, fighting side by side, Sam having to compensate for Dean's new lack of muscle mass and weight. _

"_Deanna", Sam, and Cas tracking down demons…._

"Oh shit…." Dean said aloud.

_Cas…. _Dean thought. _What the hell is Cas going to think when he sees me like this? God, that's so embarrassing….._

Dean lowered his head in his hands, trying to come up with a surefire way to make sure that Cas (or anybody else for that matter) absolutely DOES NOT have to come down here and see him in his "new" body.

_Sam, Bobby, and that goddamn witch already know about this most recent fuck-up of mine, and that's sure as hell enough._

Dean heard the door to the motel open up behind him, signaling Sam's return.

"Dean?" Sam questioned, his voice oddly high pitched, "Are you crying?"

"No, dumbass, I was ju-"

"And are you watCHING THE NOTEBOOK?" Sam interrupted, his expression of horror giving way to one of thinly concealed amusement.

Dean looked up at the gently flickering television set and sure enough, there was what looked suspiciously like a chick flick on at half-volume.

"NO! God, no, I was just thinking….. I thought this was the history channel… How the fuck do YOU know what The Notebook looks like, anyway? Huh, Samantha?" Dean retorted, throwing a self-satisfied smirk of his own in his brother's direction.

"Not all of us are the stereotypical epitome of hyper-masculine, Dean." Sam said, shoving Dean's shopping bags off his bed and onto the floor so he could lie down.

"What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean?" Dean said, sitting up straight on the couch and turning his furious gaze towards his brother, blonde hair whipping around his pale face.

"I just think it's ironic, that's all. That it's YOU of all people to get gender-swapped or whatever. It's kinda hilarious. Bobby agrees with me." Sam said, calmly, all the better to infuriate Dean.

"Uggggghhshhhhhajfgjakfjgka….." Dean said, smothering his face into the cushion on the sofa to lessen the need to go over and kick the shit out of his irritating little brother, because he was pretty sure Sam's "No Hitting Un-Possessed-Completely-Normal-Human Girls" rule didn't apply to him at the moment. "Whatever, Sammy. Is Bobbly at least on his freaking way down here?"

"Well….. actually," Sam started, sitting up to look at Dean, "Bobby said that he's still working on that haunting, cause the remains were cremated, and it might take him a while longer than he originally thought."

Dean sat up on the couch, and turned a remarkably level gaze on his brother, expressive green eyes belying the anger that was just under the surface.

"So what you're telling me here…" Dean paused and inhaled, feeling as if he were losing control of his emotions, "is that Bobby is off on some goddamn scavenger hunt and he's not even going to tRY AND HELP ME? I'M LITERALLY A FUCKING DAMSEL IN DISTRESS OVER HERE."

Dean stopped and, hunching over, put his head back in his hands. Long blonde waves of hair made a curtain around his face, effectively shielding it from the rest of the world. Which didn't matter, because Dean was definitely NOT wiping tears of frustration out of his eyes, no way in hell.

Dean felt rather than saw Sam come over and perch on the arm of the couch.

"Dean, try not to freak out, okay?" Sam said, trying to be helpful. "We can figure this out."

"We've been working on this case for forever already, and now our friend the Guidance Counselor from Hell has skipped town. We haven't even got any more leads. Not like I could fucking follow them up, anyway, I definitely don't have any IDs for a tiny fucking blonde chick." Dean said, flopping himself back on the couch and throwing an arm over his eyes melodramatically.

"Look, man, just because Bobby can't help doesn't mean it's hopeless. Hell, we could even call Cas. I'm sure he could at least get a reading on that witch's mojo and tell us where she is." Sam suggested, studying his brother.

"Ugh, Jesus….." Dean sighed, mentally weighing the pros and cons of Cas coming to help. On the one hand, Cas could potentially speed things up a bit and get him back to his old self again. On the other hand, though….. Cas would see him… like this. All girly-fied with the hair and the hips and the boobs… _Fuck_.

* * *

"Cas… I- uh, I hope you got your angel ears on, cause…. Well, I need your help. I'm in a bit of a… witchy situation. So if you could get your feathery ass down he-"

Dean's "prayer" was interrupted by the muffled sound of feathers fluttering somewhere behind him.

"Hello… Dean?"

Dean jumped, startled by the angel's blatant disregard of personal space. Again.


	5. Chapter 5: The Princess & The Archangel

**A/N: **Hey guys! Happy Valentine's Day! What better present than an update, right? Well, anyway, here you go. As aways, thanks for reading and reviewing! Ya'll are awesome. ;)

**Chapter 5: The Princess and the Archangel**

"CAS! Jesus _fucking_ Christ, we've talked about this! Minimum five foot radius before poofing into existence!" Dean yelled, jumping back from Cas then turning to face the angel. Cas was a good two inches taller than Dean in his new body, forcing Dean to turn his face up and connect his bottle-green eyes with the celestial electric blue ones.

"I do not believe that is the Christ Child's middle name, Dean. Your appearance has…. changed considerably since we last met." Castiel said, staring Dean up and down with his brows drawn together quizzically.

Sam burst out laughing at that, still perching on the arm of the couch. Dean turned an acidic glare in Sam's general direction that would have been much more effective before his newly attained "cute factor". As it was, the expression just made Sam laugh all the harder, now threatening to fall off the arm of the sofa and onto the floor.

With a look of disgust, Dean turned back to the angel, who was still studying him intently. "Look man," Dean said, a blush working it's way up his pale neck to settle prettily on his cheeks, "the staring was weird when we were both dudes, and now it's even creepier with my new… equipment." Dean finished, with a broad, sweeping gesture down his slender body.

Dean could feel how read his face was. _That's just great. I haven't blushed since I was thirteen years old, now my first day as a chick and I'm as delicate as a fucking pansy. _Dean looked back up at Cas, irritated to find that the angel was still staring at him, but at least now his gaze was honed in on Dean's face.

"So I- uh…. I called you down here, cause…. I figured you could help with the whole…" Dean said, hoping the angel would catch his drift so they could get the hell out of Awkwardville. Castiel's expression remained unchanged, obviously uncomprehending.

_Great. I guess we're going to do this the hard way._ Dean thought, embarrassed at having to tell the angel about his most recent fuck-up. Sam had at least mostly gained control of himself and moved to sit at his laptop, still concealing a smile with his hand.

"Okay… So me and Sammy were hunting this witch, right, and we go to check out her house but she ambushes me and pulls some Freaky Friday shit and I wake up with boobs and Farrah hair. So I was hoping, 'cause Bobby was supposed to come give us a hand, but he's a little busy with some haunting….." Dean trailed off to turn a hopeful gaze towards Castiel, who had wandered off to rifle through Dean's grocery sacks full of new clothes.

Cas suddenly straitened up and turned a wide-eyed look just above Dean's head, apparently forgetting about the height difference at first. When the angel's eyes finally met his, Dean realized Cas was as freaked out as he was.

"I do not know what you expect of me, Dean. I cannot reverse the magic the witch used on you, even with my grace." Cas said, choosing to take a seat on Sam's bed.

"Ugh… Yeah, I figured." Dean said, his look of disappointment lasting only a moment. "Can you, like, do some angel-y GPS on her or something, though? Like track her magic so we can at least know where she is?"

"Dean, I can make no promises. But I will attempt to locate the source of your…. recent physical transformation." Castiel said, eyes roving around the tiny hotel room, looking everywhere but Dean.

"Thanks, man. I really appreciate it." Dean said with a grin, but before he could step forward and slap the angel on the arm, he was gone.

* * *

Dean had just finished rifling through his new clothes looking for the pajama bottoms and plain white t-shirt that Charlie had found for him earlier in the day, when he once again heard the quiet rustling of wings from behind him. Dean turned around, happy to find that Cas had fluttered to the center of the room instead of _right behind_ him. The angel was sporting his trademark frown and did not appear to be pleased with the results of his search.

"Hey, man, how'd it go?" Dean said tentatively, hoping to god the angel had some good news for him.

"I was unsuccessful in my search." Cas said, head cast down in what looked to be disappointment.

_Or maybe he just spotted something in the carpet, who fucking knows with this guy,_ Dean thought.

"Uggghhh….great. That's just great." Dean said, halfway muttering to himself, "Even our feathery eyes in the sky can't find this chick, and I stILL LOOK LIKE A DISNEY PRINCESS."

Dean threw the pajama bottoms he was holding onto the floor and sad down heavily on the side of the bed in a full-on pout.

"Dean, all hope is not lost. I have contacted someone who has much more experience in this sort of thing than I, and he should be here momentarily." Cas said with a concerned frown cast in Dean's direction.

Dean slowly raised his head, a look of incredulity masking the panic he was starting to feel.

"You did what, now?" Dean inquired calmly.

"I have contacted someone wh-" Castiel started, gearing up to repeat his entire spiel.

"No no no, I heard you the first time, I just what to know WHO THE HELL YOU TOLD!" Dean said, his illusion of calm snapping like a twig.

Castiel stood still, obviously bewildered at Dean's reaction. It appeared that Dean's recent gender change made it even harder for the angel to discern his emotions, despite them being more obvious on his expressive face.

"I merely requested the presence of my brother, the archangel Gabriel, who as you well know is much more experienced in the ways of magic and trickery. He will surely be able to assist us." Cas said.

Dean plopped back down on the bed, seemingly in shock. Even Sam, who had been halfheartedly staring at his laptop during the conversation, snapped his head up at the mention of the trickster.

Not three seconds passed, the Winchesters still staring at the trenchcoated angel in incredulity, before they once again heard the telltale sound of feathers rustling in the wind.

"Heyyyy Dean-o!


	6. Chapter 6: Douchebags and Barbie Dolls

**A/N:** Hey guys! I meant to write this chapter last week, but... you know... school. and things. Anyway, I finally finished it! Ta-da! There's a little hint of Sabriel to spice things up, and I'm planning some Destiel moments for the next chapter... Hope you guys enjoy!

**Chapter 6: Douchebags and Barbie Dolls**

"Heyyyy Dean-o! And Samsquatch! Long time, no s….." The tawny haired angel took one look around the motel room, spotted Dean, and immediate froze in place, a smile slowly working its way onto his lips.

Everyone else in the room had instinctively tensed up at Gabriel's arrival, and they were all staring at the archangel, waiting for him quit throwing his stupid grin back and forth between Dean and Cas.

"Ohmigoddd, Dean! It was so sweet of you to turn yourself into a girl just so little Cassie would notice you!" Gabe finally said, clearly overly delighted with Dean's recent "developments".

Dean's face was slowly turning a dangerous-looking shade of purple, and Cas just tilted his head in confusion.

"Gabriel, Dean's current physical form, while momentarily shocking, does not illic-" Castiel started to tell his brother, who interrupted him by skipping around the room singing "Cassie and Dean, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…..", meanwhile Dean's face grew even more murderous and Sam attempted to hide his growing grin with a bitchface.

"I swear to _God_, Gabe, if you don't shut the fuck up, I will stab you in your ugly midget face!" Dean finally screeched, clearly about to burst a blood vessel in his forehead.

"Cool it, Blondie, don't get your cute little panties in a twist." Gabe said, clearly trying to push Dean even further over the edge.

"I might be wearing cute little panties," Dean purred, getting threateningly close to the archangel's face, "but if you keep giving me shit, I. Will. End. You. Got it, Douchebag?"

"Geeeez, everybody is so _touchy_ today!" Gabe exclaimed, the grin never leaving his face. "It's almost like you _didn't_ just call me and ask for help… I mean, you little girl scouts _obviously_ have everything under control… I could just go back to that sweet little alternate universe I was in, where Sammy over there was a bit more _flexible…._" Gabe finished, waggling his eyebrows in Sam's direction.

Sam sat there with a mildly horrified look on his face, while Dean tried to collect himself (Or _her_self. _Whatever_).

"Okay, okay! Fine! _Jesus_….." Dean heaved a huge, exasperated sigh. "As much as I fucking hate you right now, I hate not being in my own body more. If you could just try and find the bitch that cursed me, we'll gank her."

"Awwww, anything for you, Beautiful!" Gabriel retorted, chucking Dean under the chin then disappearing in a flutter of feathers (and maniacal giggling).

* * *

"I'm going to kill that feathery bastard one day, mark my words…" Dean growled, still visibly worked up over his archangel encounter.

"At least he agreed to help us, Dean." Sam said, obviously glad not to be the butt of Gabe's jokes. "He could have just stayed here and laughed himself into the next century or something."

"I guess…" Dean admitted, sitting down across the table from Sam and glaring moodily at the floor. "He's still a feathery bastard."

"And I will never strive to be anything else." Gabe chimed, exploding violently into existence behind Castiel, startling him.

Cas and Dean immediately sent him dark looks, both rendered comical by the effects Gabe's blast had on Castiel's hair and Dean's general un-threatening-ness.

"Did you find our Killer Counselor?" Sam asked, trying to ward off any more outbursts from Dean.

"Glad you asked, Moose. As it turns out, our little witchy friend has worked some powerful concealment charms on her current location. So, no."

Dean's face immediately turned to one of despair. _If a freaking archangel can't find her, there's no way in hell we'll ever make her turn me back_, Dean thought morosely.

"Buuuut…" Gabe continued, shooting a smile at Sam. "I _did_ find her secret spice cabinet from hell at the high school, and you know what that means…."

"What? I don't get it." Dean questioned, still looking put out.

"Dean, a witch's herb collection is something they work on all their lives. It takes literally decades for them to find enough ingredients to work some of their more complicated rituals and spells. I bet she'd never just leave it for someone else to take. It'd be like leaving a billion dollars in your locker at the gym." Sam explained.

"Sooo…..?" Dean said, thinking.

"Sooooo," Gabe drawled, glancing around at both the Winchesters and Cas in turn, "that means _somebody_ gets to play High School Barbie!"


End file.
